


Verus Amor

by messandahalf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing Dean and Sam Winchester, Canon-Typical Violence, Caring Rowena MacLeod, Castiel Saves Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Curse Breaking, Dean Winchester Hates Witches, Drugged Dean Winchester, Dying Dean Winchester, First Kiss, Helpful Rowena MacLeod, Kidnapped Castiel (Supernatural), Love Confessions, M/M, Overprotective Sam Winchester, Rowena MacLeod Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:33:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22379521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/messandahalf/pseuds/messandahalf
Summary: A simple hunt gets more complicated when Dean gets drugged and the only person who can save him goes missing.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 104





	Verus Amor

Dean and Sam smile up at the perky, blonde waitress as she sets their plates down on the table in front of them. She smiles in return, her eyes obviously sliding up and down Dean’s body before moving to Sam and repeating the process. Sam shifts uncomfortably under her eyes as she chirps something, he blocks it out, before leaving. He shares a look with Dean, who appears just as ruffled. And not in a good way.

“Dude.” Dean hisses, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder before refocusing on his brother. “That waitress was totally thinking of—“

“Dean, don’t finish that sentence.” Sam grimaces as he interrupts. He knows exactly what Dean was going to say, and it was too mentally scarring to even hear uttered out loud. Dean snaps his mouth closed, looking vaguely ill. That soon passes, however, as he looks down at his plate and grins, practically salivating. Sam glances at Dean’s double bacon cheeseburger, with a side of extra fries, and grimaces again. He looks away as Dean picks up the monstrosity and practically unhinges his jaw to take a bite.

“So, you thinking witch?” Dean asks, words garbled slightly through his mouth full of heart attack inducing burger.

“Really, Dean?” Sam complains. Dean shoots him a cheeky smirk and takes another bite. “Anyway,” Sam says, rolling his eyes, “yes, I’m thinking witch. All the vic’s were men, roughly the same age, and all had the same MO.” Sam pauses to take a bite of his salad. He chews and swallows before continuing. “And according to the friends and families of all of them, they all had the same type of personality. Burgers, booze, and boobs.” He gives Dean a very pointed look. “Watch out. You might be next on their hit list.”

“Ha ha.” Dean replies with a roll of his eyes. Sam merely shrugs and continues eating. “I thought none of the vic's knew each other?” He adds after a moment of silence. Sam raises his eyebrows in question.

“As far as families know, they didn’t. So what?” Sam asks. Dean frowns in thought.

“Doesn’t it seem a little weird to you that all these men didn’t know each other, and yet all seemed to have the same enemy?” Dean asks as he takes another massive bite of burger. Sam ponders his statement for a moment.

“Maybe they never met directly? Like I said, all the vic's had a reputation. Maybe our witch is on the sidelines and merely choosing their victims based on rumours alone. Like they’re trying to punish men who remind them of someone from their own life. Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve run into that.” Sam shrugs, looking up as their waitress returns. She has an almost predatory look in her eyes, making Sam involuntarily shiver.

“Everything okay here?” She asks, smiling down at the brothers.

“Yeah.” Sam replies, stilted. “Yeah, we’re good thanks.” She nods and bites her bottom lip before turning and sashaying away. He shares another look with Dean before refocusing on his meal. The sooner they finish, the sooner they can leave.

“Jeez, she’s really trying hard for that tip.” Dean comments, voice tinged with annoyance. “In every sense.” He adds, earning him a bitch face from his brother.

“Enough, Dean.” Sam groans. “Let’s just finish and get outta here. We need to get back to the motel so we can look into who our witch might be.” They lapse into silence as they hurriedly finish. The blonde almost looks disappointed as they ask for the bill and nothing else. They leave cash on the table, along with a meagre tip, and make their way to the exit as casually as they can muster. They can almost feel eyes burning into their backs as they push the glass doors open and step out into the slowly dying sunlight.

“Well, that wasn’t awkward at all.” Dean grumbles as he starts down the sidewalk. Before he can get too far, though, Sam stops him with a hand on his elbow.

“Dean, where are you going?” He asks, confusion painted across his features. Dean gives him a questioning look.

“Uh, back to the motel. Where am I supposed to be going?” He asks. Hadn’t they just agreed to head back to do research?

“Okay, first of all, the motel is the other direction.” Sam says, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. “Second, we _drove_ here.” He adds, now pointing to the Impala waiting in the small parking lot. Dean studies the car in confusion for a moment.

“Right.” Dean nods, walking toward his beloved car. Sam huffs something under his breath before hurrying to catch up.

“Are you feeling alright?” He asks over the hood of the car as Dean unlocks the driver side door. Dean pauses for a second and meets his brother’s eyes.

“Yeah, Sam, I’m fine.” He grouses before pulling the door open and sliding in behind the wheel. He unlocks Sam’s door, and ignores his brother’s worried looks as he starts the engine. The familiar rumble of his car soothes him, and he mentally shakes off what just happened. That waitress had just freaked him out. That’s all.

Sam opens his mouth, wanting to push the matter, but Dean silences him with a look. Sam obediently shuts his mouth, vowing to bring it up later, once they’re back at the motel. The drive is short, and soon enough they’re parking out front. Dean must sense Sam’s intentions because he turns to his brother with a stern look.

“Not a word, Sam. I’m fine. End of story.” Sam scowls back as Dean turns and climbs out of the car. That’s what he tried to do, anyway. Instead, he gets overcome by dizziness, and ends up clutching the steering wheel with his right hand and the open door with his left to stop himself from tumbling right out of the car. His vision and hearing swim for a brief moment before it all passes.

“Dean!” Sam cries from behind him, and it’s only then that he realizes that his brother has a hold on the back of his jacket, helping to hold him upright. “You are _not_ fine.” He bites out through gritted teeth.

Dean shakes Sam off as best he can, clambering ungracefully from the car. “I’m tired, Sam. That’s all.”

“Can it, Dean.” Sam says firmly. “I don’t care what you say, you’re not fine. Get in the room. I’ll grab our bags.” Sam moves to the trunk, catching the keys that Dean tosses to him with ease. Dean scowls, but heads toward the room door anyway. He has to steady himself on the heavy wood as another wave of dizziness washes over him.

“Son of a bitch.” He grumbles under his breath as he struggles to get the key into the lock. He growls in frustration as he feels the ground shift below him and he drops the keys. Muttering curses darkly, he stoops to swipe them off the asphalt, and almost goes right over to join them. He catches himself at the last second with a hand splayed out on the cold ground.

“Jesus, Dean.” He hears Sam’s voice, but it feels far away. Almost like he’s suddenly become somehow detached from his body. He feels Sam’s hand grab his shoulder, and then as suddenly as it hit, it all passes. He stumbles upright, able to fully take in Sam’s concerned face. Sam opens his mouth, but Dean holds up a hand.

“Okay, you win. Apparently I’m not fine. Can we just get inside? If I’m gonna fall over, I’d rather have a bed to aim for.” Sam gives him a dubious look, but bends down to retrieve the fallen keys. He smoothly slides the key into the lock and promptly pushes the door open. He gestures to Dean to go ahead, and he does, grumbling under his breath the whole way.

Once inside, he immediately crosses the short distance to his bed and sinks down onto it, clutching his head. Sam drops the various bags in his hands and closes and locks the door. As he makes his way back to his brother, he swipes the first aid bag off the pile. Dean looks up at Sam’s approaching footsteps and groans, getting ready to brush off his brother’s worry and concern. Like always.

“No, Dean. At least let me look for hex bags, or something that could’ve tagged you.” Dean rolls his eyes, but shrugs his coat off, tossing it to Sam before checking the pockets of his jeans. When they both come up empty, he toes off his boots and shakes them out. He’s honestly not surprised when nothing comes out.

“There, you happy?” Dean snipes. “No hex bags.” Sam mutters something before leaving Dean’s jacket on the bed beside him and going back to the bags. One by one, he empties the contents of each bag, sorting through them, but coming up empty handed.

“Okay, so it’s not a hex bag. Maybe it’s something else.” He pauses as he looks back at his brother, still sitting on the bed. He’s gotten slightly paler than usual. He grimaces as a thought pops into his head. “You’re gonna need to strip. All the other vic's had an ‘X’ marked somewhere on their body. We gotta see if you have it too.”

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up. “Sammy, no.” He says, leaving no room for negotiation in his tone. “This dizzy thing doesn’t fit the MO. None of the other vic's were reported as getting dizzy before they got offed. I probably just ate something that isn’t agreeing with me.” Sam tries to protest, despite Dean being right, but his brother ignores him. Instead, he slowly gets to his feet and makes his way across the room to the bathroom. Sam watches the door close, and sighs heavily through his nose. He debates on calling Cas or Rowena, but decides against it. Dean would kill him when he found out. Instead, he busies himself with repacking their bags.

By the time he’s done, Dean exits the bathroom. Sam spares him a glance and feels something clench when he notices Dean’s pale face. His brother runs his fingers restlessly back through his hair, pointedly ignoring Sam’s existence. In silence, Sam scoops up a change of clothes and moves out of the room. If his brother wants to be pig-headed about this, then let him. That doesn’t mean that he won’t keep an eye on his brother anyway. He’s still going to keep Rowena and Castiel on speed dial, just in case.

He breezes through a quick shower, and is surprised to hear voices in the other room as he shuts the water off. More specifically, Castiel’s voice. He can’t quite make out words, they’re talking too quietly for that, but he distinctly hears Dean grunt noncommittally before there’s footsteps moving around the room. Sam pulls on the change of clothes hurriedly, then exits the bathroom.

“Hey, Cas.” Sam greets as the angel looks his way. Dean is still pretending he doesn’t exist.

“Hello, Sam.” Cas greets, a decidedly frustrated edge to his voice. Sam’s eyes flick between their friend and his brother.

“Everything okay?” He ventures to ask. Dean slams the mini fridge door closed, spinning around with a beer in his hand. Dean _hmph_ ’s as Cas grits his teeth.

“Everything is just dandy, Sam. Stop asking.” Dean bites out, twisting off the cap on his beer and tossing it aimlessly toward the garbage can. Sam watches it sail right past and slide to a stop near the wall. “Both of you.” He adds, shooting the angel a glare. Cas meets it head on with one of his own.

“Whoa, guys, relax.” Sam says, hurrying forward into the space between them. Dean takes a swig from his bottle and shifts his gaze to the floor. “Cas, why are you here?”

Cas scowls and turns away. “I’m here for the same reason that you’re worried, Sam. There is something wrong with your brother, but he won’t let me check what, or heal him.”

“That’s because I’m fine, Cas. You have more important things to use your grace on. Or did you forget that your running low?” There’s a hint of venom in Dean's voice and Sam knows that it’s just a defence mechanism. Still, hurt then anger flash across the angel’s face.

“No, Dean.” He spits his name out. “I haven’t forgotten.” He turns slightly to focus on Sam. “I’ll be in touch, Sam. Let me know if Dean deteriorates at all.” Before Sam can even reply, Cas is marching out of the room. Sam stares after him for a stunned moment before rounding on his older brother. There is something pained painted across his features.

“Uh, Dean? What was that all about?” He asks. Dean merely shrugs, then drains half his beer in one go.

“I don’t know, Sam.” He finally replies, brushing past to return to his bed. “Maybe it’s that time of the month.” He quips as he reaches over and grabs Sam’s laptop. Sam pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a fortifying breath.

“Dean, I’m being serious here. How did Cas know that something was wrong?” Dean glares at him over the top of the laptop screen and doesn’t answer. He opts for nursing more of his beer instead. “Dean.” Sam sighs, chancing a few steps closer in his direction.

“Enough, Sam. I’m fine. Sure, I’m a little tired, but what else is new? Now, are you gonna help me find the person responsible for all these innocent deaths, or are you going to continue trying to play Dr. Phil?” He’s looking at Sam expectantly. Sam in turn glares at his brother, but backs down. With one last look at Dean, he turns to the small table in the room and pulls the handful of police files out of his bag. He sinks down into a chair, sighing softly. The ball of unease in his stomach tightens.

The next forty-five minutes pass in relative silence, the only sounds being the rustle of paper and the keyboard clicks on either sides of the room. Sam startles when Dean finally groans and snaps the laptop shut. His eyes shift to his brother, finding him furiously scrubbing at his face with both hands.

“Man, I’m beat.” He sighs heavily. “If I do any more research I think my brain will melt out of my ears.” Dean finally looks up and meets Sam’s eyes. “You get anything useful?” He asks dully. Sam chews on his lower lip and shakes his head.

“Nothing. Six different case files and absolutely zero leads. Whoever our witch is, they’re good at covering their tracks.”

“Yeah, that’s about where I am too. As far as town history goes, the only suspicious thing that’s ever happened is when old farmer Joe’s son left to pursue a life at university about a decade and a half ago. This is pointless, Sam. All we’re doing is sitting here and spinning our wheels.” Dean sets the laptop aside and gets to his feet. Sam follows his path to the small fridge with his eyes, searching for any clues that Dean was actually worse off than he was letting on.

“Sammy, I told you that I’m fine.” Dean says tiredly as he turns and catches Sam staring. Sam frowns. Dean scowls back before making his way back to the bed. However, he doesn’t quite make it that far. One second he’s walking fine, and the next he’s collapsing like a rag doll.

“Dean!” Sam shouts, jumping to his feet and rushing to his brother’s side. He gets there’s just in time to fall to his knees and stop Dean’s head from cracking on the floor. Dean’s eyes are closed, mouth slightly agape, and body completely lax. “Dean!” Sam shouts again, giving his shoulders a firm shake for good measure. A tense second passes before Dean’s eyes snap open and he sits bolt upright, gulping in a breath of air.

“Son of a bitch.” He groans. “What just happened?” He looks around, confused, before meeting Sam’s eyes. “Sammy?”

“Dean, something is wrong! You just flaked out for no reason!” Sam cries, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I don’t care what you say, I’m calling in help.” Sam gets to his feet and starts to make his way back to the table. He hears Dean scrambling to his feet and hurries his steps, knowing all too well that Dean will do his best to prevent Sam from asking for help.

“Sam!” Dean appears beside him and snatches Sam’s wrist before he can grab his phone. They struggle for a moment, but somehow Dean manages to grab Sam’s phone and twist out of his grasp, phone safely behind his back.

“Give it back, Dean! You need help!” Sam lunges forward, but Dean dances out of his reach.

“And who are you gonna call Sam? Cas? Rowena? _Crowley?_ ” Sam clenches his jaw in anger.

“Dammit, Dean, does it matter? We need help, and any one of them will do. Collapsing isn’t normal, Dean! Not even for our standards.” Dean sneers, and opens his mouth to bite back a reply, but cuts himself off as he feels something running down his face.

“What the hell?” He asks aloud, lifting a hand to wipe his nose. It comes back bloody. Dean stares at his hand for a moment in confusion, before it’s like someone suddenly turned a faucet on and his nose starts gushing blood. “Oh, bloody hell!” Dean curses, lifting a hand to prevent his blood from spattering the carpet as he marches to the bathroom.

“Uh, Dean?” Sam follows him to the doorway, finding Dean standing in front of the mirror with an already almost soaked through wad of toilet paper held under his nose. “What the hell just happened? Where did _that_ come from?” Dean looks toward him, lost expression in his eyes.

“I have no idea.” He replies, voice slightly muffled by the bloody mass covering his nose. He pulls it away to grab new, and immediately the sink gets splashed with blood.

“Is it time to call Rowena for help?” Sam asks, actual worry seeping into his tone. Still, Dean rolls his eyes.

“It’s a nosebleed, Sam, relax. It’s not like those aren’t normal.” Dean replies, hands now on either side of the sink as he hunches over the basin, not even trying to stop the flow. Blood continues to pour steadily into the white sink, slowly splashing red in every direction. Sam raises his eyebrows.

“Dean, it’s only been a couple minutes and it already looks like a crime scene in here. That’s not normal.” He argues, gesturing to the now thoroughly red sink.

“Just give it a few minutes, Sam.” Dean waves him off, lifting one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. It does little to help. Sam huffs in annoyance and crosses his arms over his chest as he leans against the doorframe. He decides to give it a few more minutes, and then he’s calling Rowena. No arguments.

A few minutes soon turns into thirty, and no arguments turns into twice as many. “Sam, look, it’s slowing down now. It’s almost done! Put the damn phone away!” Dean yells from the bathroom as Sam paces back and forth outside the door, phone in hand.

“A half hour, gushing nosebleed isn’t good, Dean!” Sam yells back. “At least let me call Cas. He wanted to be updated if anything happened.”

Dean scoffs. “Would you be freaking out and calling him if I had stubbed my toe?” Dean taunts, wiping furiously at his nose and upper lip with a wet wash cloth. “Cause that would be just as ridiculous as bothering him with this. I’ve never heard of anyone dying from a nosebleed before, Sam!” Dean tosses the ruined rag into the sink and storms out of the bathroom.

“Yeah, well, I’ve never seen or heard of someone having a nosebleed like that before, Dean! That’s wasn’t normal. You have any idea how much blood you just lost? Huh? Cause you look a hell of a lot paler than you did half an hour ago, Dean.” Dean brushes past him, intentionally letting their shoulders connect painfully.

“Oh, can it, Sam. _I’m fine._ ” Dean growls out between gritted teeth. He rounds on his younger brother, ready to continue, but he never gets the chance. He suddenly blacks out, dropping to the floor like someone pulled his batteries out with no warning, or like he was a puppet who suddenly had his strings cut. This time, Sam doesn’t get there in time, and Dean’s head connects painfully with the hard, unforgiving linoleum floor.

“Shit, Dean!” Sam hurries to his lifeless brother’s body, fumbling with his shirt collar as he searches for a pulse. It’s fast and heavy beneath his fingertips. “Dammit.” He curses under his breath, getting to his feet and wrapping his arms around Dean and hauling him up. He half carries, half drags his brother to his bed and heaves him up. He half-heartedly reminds himself to tell Dean to lay off the cheeseburgers when he wakes up.

Spotting his phone on the floor by the bathroom door where he dropped it, Sam strides over and picks it up. With his eyes trained on Dean, he pulls up his contacts and taps on the one he wants. The phone rings three times before he gets an answer.

“Hey, it’s Sam. I need your help. How soon can you be here?”

**~~~**

An hour later, there’s a knock on the motel room door. Sam looks up, scooping his gun up off the table where he had set it down. He glances at Dean as he takes silent steps toward the door. The knock sounds again as Sam comes up beside it. Lowering his head, he looks through the spyhole on the door, shoulders drooping as he feels relief flood through him.

“Hello, Samuel.” Rowena greets as he unlocks the door and pulls it open.

“Rowena.” He replies, stepping aside to let the redhead in.

“Now, what’s so urgent that you required an emergency house call?” She asks as she strides into the room. “Oh.” She says as her eyes land on Dean’s unconscious body lying prone on the bed.

“Yeah.” Sam says, closing and locking the door again. “Checked for hex bags, but came up empty. Figured since it’s a witch in town that Dean’s best shot was a witch doctor.” Rowena doesn’t reply as she approaches Dean’s bedside. She looks him over briefly before hovering her hands over his chest and murmuring Latin under her breath. She frowns and squints her eyes in concentration, voice becoming more forceful and demanding. After a minute, she steps back, turning to look at the younger Winchester.

“This is magic, yes, but not any hex, or curse, or even a spell. It’s a potion that he’s ingested.” Sam nods.

“Can you fix him?” He asks desperately. Rowena winces, and Sam feels the knot in his stomach not only tighten, but also grow about three sizes.

“It is fixable, yes, but I can’t. I’m sorry.” She takes another step away from Dean as Sam takes several closer.

“What do you mean? Who can then?” Rowena furrows her brow at the question, eyes flicking back to Dean, looking him up and down.

“My best guess? I’d say it’s time to call your angel.” She replies. Sam frowns in confusion.

“Cas? Why?” Sam asks, even as he pulls his phone from his pocket.

“I can explain once Castiel is here, but right now we don’t have time. Whatever that potion is doing to him, it’s speeding up. I’m afraid if we don’t do something soon, he’ll die.” Rowena explains urgently. That’s all Sam really needs to pull up Castiel’s contact and press call. It’s silent for a moment before it starts to ring.

“Wait, do you hear that?” Sam asks, pulling the still ringing phone away from his ear. He shares a worried look with Rowena before following the sound, stopping by the motel room door. Twisting open the lock, he throws the door open, but is greeted by empty air.

“Cas!” Sam calls, looking left and right before following the noise down to his feet. Castiel’s ringing phone is sitting just outside the door, Sam’s name currently lit up on the screen as it trills again. Taped to the bottom half of the screen is a sloppy, handwritten note. Keeping an eye on his surroundings, he stoops to pick it up. His call goes to voicemail as he brings Cas’s phone up to his eyes.

_‘Hope you didn’t need the angel, cause you’ll never find him.’_ He reads aloud, cursing as he looks out over the parking lot. His eyes go back to the note, rereading it as he turns back to the room. He hands the phone to Rowena, who reads over the note as well.

“Now what?” Sam asks, eyes gliding back to his lifeless brother.

“I can try a tracking spell using his phone, but if we’re dealing with any kind of intelligent witch, they would’ve warded themselves against any kind of magic.” Sam nods, a vague sense of desperation starting to creep coldly into his veins.

“It’s worth a shot. What do you need?” Rowena rattles off the necessary ingredients, and Sam rushes out to the Impala to check the trunk. Thankfully, since he had started dabbling in basic witchcraft, they had all the necessary items stored safely in a curse box in the car. Not exactly needed, but it kept everything inside safe.

He stays out of Rowena’s way as she mixes ingredients, holding his breath. He looks back at Dean as she chants the incantation. For a moment, nothing happens, the suddenly the phone sitting in the middle of the table explodes, Sam and Rowena ducking as pieces of it fly across the room.

“It is as I feared.” The witch shakily tells Sam. “Wherever Castiel has been taken, he’s been warded against witchcraft.” Her gaze moves to Dean. “And your brother is running out of time.”

“Well, we’ll just have to do it the old fashioned way then.” Sam says with grim determination. “I’ll work on locating Cas. Rowena, can you at least slow the effects down? I need you to buy me as much time as you can.”

Rowena nods. “I can try.” She quickly moves to Dean’s bedside again. As she starts softly speaking again, Sam flips open his laptop and boots it up. Since they’ve been in town, they’ve been to the police station, the homes of several different people who knew the vic's, and the diner earlier that night. Of everywhere they went to, he came into physical contact with the sheriff, several family members, and a few of the friends. As far as the diner goes, there was any number of cooks, other kitchen staff, and waitresses who could’ve had direct access to Dean’s food before he ingested it. For that matter, another patron could’ve slipped something in it as their server walked by.

“Dammit!” Sam curses, running his hands through his hair. We need to narrow this down. There’s too many people to check them all out.” He looks over his shoulder to Rowena. “Could whatever this is be passed through physical contact, or would he have to have eaten it?” He calls over to her. Rowena’s brow furrows.

“My best guess would be something he ate. It’s could’ve been passed through a simple handshake, but our best bet would be anyone who handled anything he ate.” Came the stressed reply. Sam nods, turning back to the laptop. First, he looks up the name of the diner, relieved that they actually have their own website. His fingers tap nervously on the tabletop beside him as the page slowly loads. When the page finally comes up, he scrolls through the tabs, disappointment and annoyance rushing through him when he doesn’t find a page showcasing the employees.

“Okay.” He murmurs. “Maybe town records will show employment history.” His fingers fly over the keypad as he goes from site to site, page to page, in search of information on who could’ve drugged his brother. After almost fifteen fruitless minutes, Sam slams the laptop closed.

“This isn’t fast enough. I need to go there and pull the FBI card, find out who was working earlier.” He announces as he pockets his phone and grabs the car keys.

“Whatever you do, do it fast.” Rowena says. “I’m doing what I can, but the effects are still spreading. I can only slow it down to a certain degree.” Sam nods wordlessly and rushes from the room.

The Impala roars to life in the parking lot as Sam dives in and jams the key into the ignition and turns it. He throws it into gear and peels out of the lot, not giving a damn about the speed limit as he races back to the diner. The lot is thankfully not busy as he parks and rushes towards the glass doors. A cheery brunette smiles as he stumbles inside.

“Hi.” She chirps. “Did you want a table, or were you looking for takeout?” She asks, hand hovering over a menu. Sam pulls his fake FBI badge from his jacket pocket and flashes it at her.

“I need a list of everyone working earlier tonight, and their addresses.” He tells her. The girl opens her mouth before snapping it closed and looking over her shoulder. “Please, I’m in a bit of a hurry.” He adds.

“Let me get my manager.” She says, disappearing before Sam can protest. He reaches up and tugs at his hair nervously as he waits for the waitress to come back. Several long minutes pass before he gets his wish.

“Hi, I’m Scott.” The man with her says, extending a hand for Sam to shake, which he does. “I’m the manager here. Can I ask what this is about?” Sam glances around at the nearly empty diner, heaving a sigh as he debates on what to tell the guy.

For good measure, he lifts his badge again before explaining. “I have reason to believe that one of your employees drugged my partner. I need a list of anyone who had access to anything coming out of the kitchen, and their addresses. Please, time is of the essence.” Sam explains, eyes darting around the small diner in search of any familiar faces.

“Let’s take this to my office.” Scott says, gesturing toward the door he had emerged from.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure.” Sam agrees, hand sliding into his jacket pocket to run his fingers over his gun. The few other customers in the diner watch them go with mild interest.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Agent.” Scott says as they pass through the door and into a hallway. “All my staff are good. We’ve never had any complaints like this before. I’m honestly finding it hard to believe that one of them drugged your partner.” He continues, pushing open yet another door and gesturing for Sam to enter. Sam takes a look around the room as he does so.

There’s a desk sitting perpendicular to a decent sized window. A plush executive chair sits on one side, with a significantly smaller, wheeled desk chair sitting on the opposite side. A single file cabinet rests behind the desk, and a sad looking, potted tree takes up the far corner on his left. Sam turns back to face Scott as he follows him in and closes the door behind them.

“Yeah, well, believe it. And if I don’t find out what, he could die. So, please, names and addresses.” Sam asks again, more persistent this time. He didn’t have time to nicely convince this guy. Dean didn’t have time.

“Alright, calm down.” Scott raises his hands in a placating gesture. “Do you happen to remember what time you were here? Or which server you had?” Scott asks as he moves behind his desk and sits down. Sam wracks his brain as Scott pulls out what looks like a staff schedule.

“Maybe six or seven?” Sam says, voice lilting up at the end as if questioning his response. I’m not sure we got the waitress’s name, but she was blonde. Overly friendly.” Sam adds, thinking back to the predatory looks she had given the brothers. Thinking about it now, he has a feeling that she is their witch. She wasn’t looking at them with sex in mind. She was looking at them as her next victims.

“A blonde at around six or seven.” Scott repeats, flipping through the schedule. “Ah, I bet that’d be Rosa. She lives over on Main. House 134, I believe.” Scott says, looking up at Sam.

“Great.” Sam replies, filing the information away. “What about cooks? Who had access behind the scenes?” Scott purses his lips and looks it over.

“Unfortunately, anyone could’ve handled that food in the kitchen. Main cook on duty was Mason. He lives over on the corner of First Street and Third Ave. Big monster of a house, you can’t miss it.” Sam nods, already taking a few steps toward the door.

“134 on Main, and the corner of First and Third. Got it. Thanks.” Sam rushes to get out as he wrenches the door open.

“Wait, Agent!” Scott calls, hurrying to his feet. “What are you going to do to them? They’re good kids, I swear. They wouldn’t hurt anybody.” Sam looks over Scott’s face, and decides that the man actually believes that. Whoever this witch turned out to be, they’re a good actor.

“I’m just gonna talk.” Sam lies, earning himself a small smile. With that, Sam turns and leaves the office, rushing back down the hall and busting out into the diner itself. There’s a few more people seated, the night owls of the town, but Sam ignores them as he crosses the tile in big strides and pushes through the glass doors.

The air outside has gotten a little colder, making Sam shiver slightly as he hurries to the Impala. As he slides behind the wheel, he dials Rowena’s number. He almost thinks that it’ll go to voicemail when he gets a breathless reply.

“Please tell me you’ve got the angel.” Rowena says through the phone. Sam winces.

“Not yet. I have two places to scope out. How much time do I have?” He asks, twisting the key and feeling the engine roar to life.

“Not much longer. I’d say an hour, hour and a half tops. Whatever this is, it’s strong magic.” Rowena replies. Sam’s heart sinks.

“Okay. Keep doing what you can. I’ll go as fast as I can.” Sam replies, hanging up and tossing his phone down beside him on the seat. He shifts the car into drive and peels out of the parking lot, tires squealing slightly in protest. He heads to Main Street first, still willing to bet that Rosa the friendly waitress was actually Rosa the deadly witch. His face is grim as house number 134 comes into view, and he pulls over to park alongside the curb. Grabbing his phone, he jumps out of the car.

He takes hurried steps up to the front door, surveying the house and surrounding property as he goes. The lawn is well kept, a small flower bed flourishing below the large living room window. He can see a few lights on inside, a good sign that Rosa is home. Possibly torturing Castiel at this very moment. He knocks firmly on the door.

A few seconds later, the door gets pulled open, revealing the blonde waitress from earlier. “Well, hello.” She purrs breathlessly. Sam forces a smile.

“Hi.” He says, fishing his FBI badge out and holding it up. “My name is Agent Harrison, and I’m conducting a federal investigation. You’re going to need to let me search the premises.” Rosa looks stunned for a moment, but seems to mentally shake herself, giving Sam a flirty smile.

“Of course, Agent.” She says, stepping aside and pulling the door wider for him to enter. Sam warily steps through, hand already reaching for his gun after replacing the badge. “What exactly are you looking for?”

Sam turns to study Rosa’s innocently curious face. “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to tell you.” He informs the blonde. “You’re going to have to stay here, please.” She frowns at that, but obediently turns to the living room and sits stiffly on the large, beige sofa. “Thank you for your cooperation.” Sam says with a tense smile. Sam turns, pulling his gun from it’s hiding place once he’s sure that Rosa can’t see it.

He climbs the stairs, treading quietly in case Rosa has an accomplice somewhere else in the house. He holds his gun up in front of him, keeping one ear trained for any possible noise downstairs. When he reaches the top of the staircase, he glances to his left and right. There’s three doors to his left, one closed and two half open. To his right are two open doors. He decides to go right first.

He inches down the hall, taking as light of steps as possible. He practically holds his breath as he presses his back flat against the wall beside the first door. With a deep breath, he swings around into the open doorway, gun raised ahead of him. The room in front of him appears to be an office of some sort. It also appears to be empty. Still, he eases his way in, thoroughly checking it out before moving back to the doorway, satisfied that Cas isn’t there.

Sam creeps across the hall toward the other door, pausing when he hears muffled sounds drifting up from the stairs. Something in the kitchen banging? Pots, maybe? Sam takes a moment to decide his choices. On one hand, it could be a diversion, meant to draw him downstairs and away from Cas. On the other, it could be the angel down there, and Rosa is making a hasty escape. He strains his ears, trying to figure out the possible source of the sounds. He doesn’t notice any discernible voices, so that has to be a good sign. Right?

He lingers for a moment more before resuming his search of the upper floor. The next room across the hall appears to be a bathroom, sparsely decorated. Sam does a quick sweep of the small room before heading back out. As he makes his way down the hall, he pauses at the top of the stairs. There’s still some banging going on, mixed in with the sound of sloshing water. Maybe Rosa was washing dishes?

With a frown securely in place, Sam hurries quietly to the first door of the three remaining. He hooks his toe around the half open door, slowly pushing it open, but stopping it before it can hit the wall. The lights are off, but there’s enough light filtering in through the thin curtains to make out a bedroom. It has an oddly clinical feel to it, making Sam guess that this was a guest room. As he inches inside, he reaches out and flicks on the light. Immediately, the room is bathed in a soft white.

Sam continues in further, uneasily aware that he is running out of time. He does a cursory sweep of the room, making sure to check inside the tiny closet and underneath the bed. No Cas. Frustration mounting, Sam returns to the hall, once again hearing the sounds from the kitchen below filtering up the stairs.

The next door is the other half open one. Getting more antsy, Sam lightly nudges the door open and sweeps into the room. This bedroom feels lived in. The sheets and blankets on the bed are made, but still slightly rumpled. There’s a slightly overflowing basket of laundry in the corner, and a few articles of clothing strewn haphazardly across the floor. A quick search of the room, however, proves that it does not contain Cas.

With one last door upstairs to go, Sam heads to the firmly closed wood. Readjusting his grip on his gun slightly, Sam reaches out and grabs hold of the doorknob. He counts to three in his head, then flings the door open. What little hope he had at finding Cas plummets as he takes in the shoebox sized supply closet. With a huff, he shuts the door and returns to the stairs.

He treads decidedly less lightly on the way down to the main floor. Once he steps off the last stair, he stows his gun safely in his jacket pocket and follows Rosa’s previous path into the living room. The room is now empty, with only on exit leading into a small dining area. He crosses through, eyes peeled for any sort of hidden doorway. There’s nothing.

The dining area is cramped, taken up almost completely by a mahogany table and six matching chairs. From here, the only way to go is toward the kitchen, which has an open wall design, allowing Sam to see between the counter and the cupboards and spot Rosa indeed doing the dishes. Rosa looks up as Sam enters the kitchen.

“Find anything suspicious?” She asks, shooting him a grin. Sam spots a door on the far side of the room.

“Nothing yet.” He replies. “This place got a basement?” He inquires further, slowly making his way to the door. Rosa shakes her head.

“Nope. No garage either, which sucks. There is a shed in the backyard, though.” Sam looks toward her in time to see her gesture to the door now a few strides away. He nods his head.

“Okay. I’m gonna have to check that out. I’ll once again have to ask you to please stay here.” Rosa nods, watching Sam warily as he reaches the door, unlocks it, and pulls it open. He flicks on the light switch next to the door, and a small bulb above the door sputters to life. Sam frowns slightly, but steps outside, hand back inside his pocket. He scans the yard as best he can as he slowly makes his way across the short cropped grass.

As he gets closer to the small shed, he once again pulls his gun out, angling his body so as he can block it from view with his hip. By now, his eyes have adjusted to the almost blackness outside and he easily spots the handle of the shed. He flips the latch up, thankful that Rosa didn’t think to lock it, and pulls the door open. The hinges groan on protest, the whole door shuddering slightly as it comes to rest. The shed is almost empty, a handful of cardboard boxes scattered in with various yard tools.

Sam enters the cramped space, side stepping a lawn mower, eyes scanning every nook and cranny, desperation filling him to burst as every corner reveals nothing. Castiel isn’t here. Rosa isn’t their witch. Which means that Sam just wasted a good fifteen or twenty minutes searching the wrong house.

“Dammit.” Sam growls under his breath, running a hand through his hair as he once again pockets his gun. He exits the shed, closing and latching the door again before taking hurried strides back to the back door. Rosa is waiting for him as he bursts back inside. Before she can say a word, he holds up a hand.

“Nothing here, you’re clean. Thank you for you cooperation, and I apologize for any inconvenience this might have given you.” He offers a tense smile before he’s making his way back to the front door. Rosa’s hurried footsteps follow behind him. Her voice stops him as he reaches the door.

“If I’m clean, then can you tell me what you were looking for?” She asks again. Sam pauses as he takes in her almost forced innocent tone. She’s hiding something, or at least covering for someone else. He turns back and studies her face.

With a fake smile, he replies, “I’m sorry, that’s classified.” Then he’s out the door and rushing back to the Impala. He needs to get to the corner of First and Third before Rosa potentially alerts Mason to Sam’s impending visit.

The Impala once again roars to life, and Sam sends a silent prayer to whoever is listening that he hasn’t run out of time. The trip to Mason’s house is a quick one, and Sam soon sees what Scott meant when he said he couldn’t miss it. Mason must come from money because the building looms over everything else around it, easily three or four times larger than the next largest house. Sam parks the car and jumps out. Gun at the ready, he runs up to the door. Twisting the knob, he pushes inside, not bothering to knock.

The second he steps through the door, he gets blasted into the wall beside him. He groans as he slides down onto the floor, cursing as he spots his gun a good ten feet away.

“Well, well, well. Look what we have here.” A voice says moments before Sam is slammed back into the wall, an invisible force pinning him here. “A hunter.” The voice spits out. A young man, probably around twenty-five, steps into view, hand held up as if actually holding Sam physically. “I’m assuming you’re here for the angel.” He says, coming to a stop several feet away. Sam struggles against his magic infused grip, but stays where he is.

“I take it you’re Mason?” Sam asks, glaring at the smug looking bastard in front of him. Mason smirks.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He bows sarcastically. “As I was saying, you are here for the angel. However, he is not here. Do you really think I’d be stupid enough to keep _Castiel_ of all people with me when the Winchester’s are in town?” His malicious grin widens as he looks over Sam’s face. “Oh, yes, Sam. I know who you are. I know all about you and your self-proclaimed hero of a brother. How is Dean, by the way?”

Sam struggles violently again. “Shut up.” He growls, only making Mason laugh gleefully.

“Oh, I’m betting he isn’t doing so well at the moment. I’m honestly quite surprised to find you here, and not at his bedside. After all, he won’t be around for much longer. Unless, of course,” he pauses, looking over Sam’s face, “you have someone else attending to him. Trying to save him. I’m sorry to say that there is only one way to save your brother, Sam, only one person, and you’re never going to find him.”

With a roar of outrage, Sam finally manages to break free from whatever hold the witch had over him. Mason’s face flashes with surprise as Sam lunges toward him, managing to connect a solid punch to the smarmy dick’s jaw. Mason’s head snaps to the side. He growls before shifting his hands, sending Sam once again flying into a very solid wall. He crashes into a few framed pictures, covering his head as he falls to the hardwood floor in a shower of glass.

“Oh, Sam.” Mason chastises. “I liked those photos.” He starts to stalk toward the hunter. Sam looks up, shaking glass from his hair, and spots his gun a few feet away. He scrambles toward it, fingers almost brushing the handle when Mason’s booted foot comes crashing down on his outstretched hand. Sam yells out in pain as Mason twists on his foot so he can better kick the gun out of reach with his other toe.

Reaching down, he tangles his fingers in Sam’s hair, wrenching his head up and back so they can see eye to eye. Involuntary tears spring into Sam’s eyes as he tugs harder. He shifts his weight, trying to bring his right leg close enough to his left hand without Mason noticing. If he can just get to his spare gun, he’d have a chance.

“You know, Sam, I like you.” Mason says, giving Sam’s head another jolt back. A sharp pain lances down Sam’s spine at the movement. “You’re clearly the more intelligent brother. You’re the more likeable one, I suppose. Dean is all false bravado and self-loathing, but you,” he punctuates his sentence with a leer, “you here have this calm clarity about who you really are, and that, Sam, makes you the better hunter.”

Sam huffs a laugh through his nose as he finally gets his fingers wrapped around his other gun. “You have no idea.” He chokes out past the weird angle of his throat, and pulls the gun up and fires a bullet into Mason’s right knee. Mason actually shrieks, letting go of Sam’s hair as he stumbles backwards and lands on his ass. Ignoring the pain still aching down his neck and shoulders, Sam gets to his feet and shakily movies to retrieve his other gun. He slips it into the waistband of his jeans, along his lower back, keeping the gun he fired trained on Mason’s head.

“Now,” he demands, “where is Castiel?” Mason writhes on the floor, both hands clutching his injured leg just above his ruined knee. “Hey!” Sam yells, firing a shot into the floor next to Mason’s head. Mason freezes in terror. The dude may be a relatively skilled potion brewer, but he clearly wasn’t used to not having the upper hand. Or pain, for that matter. “Where is Castiel?”

Tears are streaming down Mason’s face as he looks up. “I’m not telling you, man. Are you crazy?” Sam glowers down at him, shifting his aim to Mason’s other knee.

“Are you the witch that’s been killing all those men in town?” He asks instead. The defiant, petulant glare he receives is all the answer he needs. He fires another round, shattering the guy’s other knee. He cries out in pain, body spasming on the floor.

“It’s not my fault!” He finally cries. “It was Rosa! It was all her idea! I swear! Her boyfriend cheated on her then kicked her to the curb and she just got this personal vendetta against everyone like him. When she found out I fooled around with witchcraft she sucked me into her little scheme. I don’t know where the angel is, I swear. I told her to bring him here, but I’ve searched the whole place twice and there’s no sign of him.”

Sam finds himself believing the guy. The kid was clearly in over his head. “Where would Rosa have taken him instead?” An impending feeling of panic is starting to swim at the edges of Sam’s mind. He needs Cas _now._

“There’s an abandoned warehouse on the East edge of town. That’s where we always meet up. I’m willing to bet she took him there.” Mason whimpers. Sam nods.

“Look, I’m not gonna kill you. I am calling the cops, and after you’re finished at the hospital you’re going to confess to everything. Got it?” Mason slumps back against the floor, still squirming in pain.

“Yeah, man, I swear. I’ll tell the cops I did it, and I’ll rat on Rosa too. The bitch deserves it.” Sam fights the urge to roll his eyes, choosing instead to turn his back on the pathetic show in front of him and dialling 911 as he strides to the door. He relays the address to the lady who answers, and gives a very brief rundown of what happened. He hangs up and is in the Impala and gone before he even hears sirens in the distance.

Sam gets his bearings once he’s far enough away from Mason’s mansion, quickly pointing the car East. He’s wasted enough time already, and he needs to get to Cas now. He pushes the speed limit as much as he dares, keeping an eye out for anything that looks like an old, abandoned warehouse. Just as he’s beginning to lose hope, starting to believe that Mason was lying to him, he finally spots it up ahead. It is indeed right on the edge of town, the last building before the highway stretches off into the distance.

Sam pulls over and parks at the edge of the property, not wanting to give himself away if Rosa is indeed there. He climbs from the car, popping the chamber of his gun to check the number of bullets. He’s a few short, but he doesn’t really have time to pop the trunk and reload. Pushing his steadily growing panic aside, he approaches the fence surrounding the dark building.

There’s a small gap cut in the chain link fence, which Sam struggles through, cursing as he feels his jackets catch and tear. Ignoring it, he pushes through, straightening upright and pulling his gun out on the other side. He hurries toward the building as quietly as he can, stepping lightly on the gravel parking lot. Still, they crunch under his feet. He winces as he finally gets to a side door.

Holding his breath, he tries the knob, thankful that it twists open freely. He pulls it quickly to avoid the squeal of bad hinges, making sure to stop it before it can bang against the wall. Sam reaches into his other pocket and pulls out his flashlight, flicking it on as he steps into the building. He pauses once he’s about twenty feet inside, holding his breath to try and detect any sort of sound in the place. Just as he’s about to give up hope, he hears voices. And once of them is the distinctly familiar rumble of their angelic best friend.

“Hold on, Dean.” Sam says under his breath. “I’m almost to Cas.” He takes off toward the voices, stopping now and then to rejudge where they were coming from. About five minutes later, he finds himself flattened against the wall outside the room that Rosa has Castiel. He recognizes her voice. He also recognizes the telltale crackle of flames.

“Honestly, I’m doing you a favour.” Rosa hisses. “He’s just like all the rest. Sleeping around with anything that moves. I can practically _feel_ the hurt radiating off of you, and he’s inflicted it all, hasn’t he? Constantly having to watch him parade women around while completely ignoring you.”

“You’re wrong.” Cas replies. “It’s not like that.” Castiel’s words are met with a hard laugh.

“Oh, don’t lie to me. I’m apparently not as gullible as you. Besides, the deed is almost done. You’re precious hunter will be dead within the hour.”

Sam’s heart pounds in his chest as he listens to their conversation. He hears footsteps pacing and readies his gun. With a deep breath, he closes his eyes and focuses on Rosa’s footfalls, trying to pinpoint approximately where in the room she is. When it sounds like she’s the closest to the door that she’s going to get, Sam whirls around the bare door jamb and raises his gun.

“Hey!” He yells, levelling his gun on Rosa’s head as she stops to look at him.

“Oh, you finally found us. I knew that pathetic excuse would rat me out, so I came here as soon as you left.” Rosa doesn’t look surprised or scared. In fact, she’s smirking at Sam, eyes glinting dangerously. Behind her, a beaten and bloody Castiel lies on the floor, hog-tied and surrounded by holy fire.

“Listen, you don’t wanna do this.” Sam says, trying to reason with her. “You can still walk away.” Rosa barks out an unamused laugh.

“I don’t want to walk away.” She sneers. “Your brother deserves this.” She stops to gesture wildly at Cas. “He doesn’t deserve to get what would make him happy.” Sam looks past her to meet Castiel’s eyes. Cas looks back with building worry and panic. They need to get to Dean now, before it’s too late.

“If you don’t give me Cas, I’m afraid I have no choice.” Sam tells Rosa, cocking his gun and preparing to fire. “I’m taking him out of here with me. No matter what. Cause my brother is a damn hero. He’s saved the world. He deserves whatever he wants, and I’m not gonna let him just die. Not cause of your messed up ideas of revenge.”

“How many times do I have to tell you,” Rosa yells, advancing toward him, “that you don’t get a choice in the matter!” She takes another step, raising her hands, and Sam fires. Her head snaps back, whatever incantation she was about to yell dying on her lips. She falls to the ground, dead before her body fully collapses.

“Sam.” Cas groans. His voice pulls Sam from his head and he hurries over. He spots a bucket full of stray rain water from the partly open roof, and detours to grab it. Dousing the flames, he reaches out a hand and helps pull Cas to his feet.

“Come on, Cas. Let’s get you to Dean since everyone seems to think you’re the key to saving him.” He turns and starts leading them back the way he came, pulling his phone out as he goes. Rowena picks up on the first ring.

“I mean it, Samuel, we need that angel now!” She cries into the phone.

“Rowena, I got him. We’re on the very edge of town, across from the motel. I’m gonna get him there as soon as I can. Just keep Dean alive a little longer!” He pants into the phone as they jog through the dark hallways.

“I’m doing the best I can, but I can’t hold this off much longer. Hurry!” The line goes dead, and Sam pockets his phone as they reach the door he entered in through. They both burst outside, opening up their stride through the empty parking lot. Cas lags behind, strength waning due to his injuries.

“Cas, come on. I don’t know what she did to you, but we’re rapidly running out of time.” Cas grunts in pain, but speeds up all the same. Sam admires his determination in that moment. When they reach the fence, Sam pulls the chain link open as best he can so Castiel can squirm through easier. The edges of the metal still catch at his clothes and skin, but he makes it through mostly unscathed. Sam hauls himself back through, and then they’re both rushing to the Impala.

“What exactly happened to Dean?” Cas inquires as they climb into the car and Sam starts the engine.

“Honestly, we don’t really know. Our best guess is something got slipped into his food. Some kind of potion. It wasn’t the MO the witches used on their other victims in town, which is why we didn’t catch it right away.” Sam explains as he presses the gas pedal to the floor. They pull back out onto the road, and Sam slows down a little to swing the Impala into a u-turn. Dean was gonna kill him later if he ever found out his Sam was currently driving his precious Baby.

“And why does everyone seem to think that I can help him?” He asks, face clouded with confusion.

“I don’t know, Cas.” Sam sighs, watching the scenery outside fly past the windows. “Rowena didn’t exactly go into details before I left to find you. I’m sure she’ll explain when we get there.” Cas nods silently. The car gets filled with tension as Sam drives them back to the motel, heart hammering wildly in his chest.

The drive back through town seems to take forever, but at last the motel’s sign comes into view. Sam huffs out a sigh of relief as he pulls into the parking lot, practically squealing to a stop outside their room door. Cas is out of the car and marching up to the door before Sam even has the car in park. The door opens, revealing a pale and harried looking Rowena, who quickly ushers the angel inside. Sam rushes to follow.

Dean looks no different than when he left. He looks just as lifeless as before. Sam can barely make out his chest rising and falling as he breathes. His heart clenches with fear, worried that they’re too late. Only then, does he even notice that Rowena and Castiel are having a heated, but quiet, conversation off to the side of the room.

“Guys,” Sam ventures, “what’s taking so long? You needed Cas here and he’s here. Come on!” Both the angel and the witch turn to look at him.

“Perhaps this would be better if you waited outside, Sam.” Rowena says nervously.

“No!” Sam argues. “He’s my brother, and he needs help. I’m not going anywhere.”

“He does need help.” Rowena says, approaching him. “And his help is here now. Please, just wait outside.” Sam grits his teeth and looks at Cas. Cas sighs tiredly.

“Rowena is right, Sam. You should wait outside.” He says, avoiding looking Sam in the eyes. Sam’s jaw falls open in shock, too stunned to fight Rowena’s petite form pushing him toward the door and back out into the dark, chilly night air. She slams and locks the door in his face.

“Now,” Rowena says, turning back to Castiel. “You know what you have to do. You’re running out of time.” Castiel shifts uncertainly as his eyes glide over to Dean’s unmoving body.

“I’m still not sure how I’m of service here.” Castiel intones. Rowena sighs.

“Are you familiar with those sappy Disney princess movies?” She asks. When Castiel nods, she continues. “Well, my dear angel, Dean here is sleeping beauty, only instead of sleeping for the rest of his life, he is going to die. He needs his charming prince to save his life, and that’s you.” Cas avoids her eyes, instead choosing to look at her high heeled feet.

“I still don’t see what my role is.” He says, evading the issue.

“Verus amor, Castiel.” Rowena says softly. The angel’s head snaps up at that, eyes boring unblinkingly into the witch’s. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the first time I ever saw you two in a room together. It’s almost palpable, you two are so obvious. You’re also oblivious if you still haven’t acted on it after all these years.” Her eyes soften as she takes in Castiel’s face.

“Look, I know you’re scared. I know this isn’t the ideal way for the two of you to finally acknowledge the planet sized elephant in the room, but if you ever want a future with your hunter, you need to get to smooching.” She rests a soft hand on his forearm, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll be outside with Sam. For everyone’s sake, please don’t take your time. We’ve just about run out.” With that, she turns and follows Sam outside.

Castiel can hear their muffled voices outside as Rowena explains to a frantic Sam what is happening. He tunes them out as he turns to Dean however, intent on only focusing on him. With shaky steps, he approaches the bed cautiously, heart hammering in his chest. For an angel who shouldn’t feel, he’s feeling so much he’s afraid his chest might burst from it all.

“Dean.” He says as he slowly lowers himself down to sit on the edge of the bed. “Dean, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m sorry. This was never how I wanted things between us to go. After this, I fear things will never be the same. As hard as it will be, I will go, Dean. If that is what you truly wish, I will leave and you will never have to see or hear from me again.” He stops and looks over Dean’s pale face. He shifts closer.

“What is best for you is what I’ve always wanted.” He adds quietly. He leans down closer, pausing to feel Dean’s short, shallow breaths puff against his cheek. He tries to move further, but feels his body freeze up in fear. The consequences of doing this are great, but the consequences of not are worse. He breaths, fighting against the panic in his chest, and forces himself closer.

Their lips touch softly. Barely. A simple brush of skin on skin. Cas lingers for a moment before pulling back and opening his eyes. Nothing has changed. Dean is still lying motionlessly on the bed, barely breathing as his life source slowly ebbs away. Castiel’s previous panic flares up and clutches at his chest. It didn’t work. Rowena was wrong. Cas was not who Dean needed, and now he was going to die. All because Castiel wasn’t good enough.

“Dean, no.” Castiel chokes, cupping the hunter’s cold cheeks in his hands. He starts mumbling Enochian. Repeating the same phrase over and over. Closing his eyes, he lets his tears stream freely from his eyes. He leans down, resting his forehead against Dean’s. “Verus amor, Dean.” He chokes. “I love you.”

He surges down and kisses Dean, pressing his lips to his hunter’s with every ounce of strength he has. Every missed I Love You, every broken heart, gets poured into that kiss. Just as he’s about to pull away and go inform the others that he failed, that Dean was going to die and he couldn’t stop it, he feels Dean kiss back.

He gasps against Dean’s lips as they move against his own with just as much held back passion, with just as many unsaid words, and unvoiced feelings. When he finally pulls away, he’s panting.

“Dean?” He asks, searching those familiar green eyes. “Dean, you’re okay?” Dean grins back tiredly.

“Yeah, I am. I’m assuming I have you to thank for that.” His voice is croaky and hoarse, but it must be loud enough to travel through the walls, cause Sam pounds on the door and yells his name.

“Dean!” He yells again, bursting through the door and flying into the room. Rowena enters behind him. Her eyes look Dean over quickly before settling on Cas, still perched on the bed, one hand on Dean’s chest where it landed when Sam entered, and she nods.

“Heya, Sammy.” Dean greets, shifting his tired smile to his brother.

“Damn, it’s good to see you awake.” Sam comments, falling to his knees beside Dean’s bed. Castiel gets to his feet, suddenly avoiding everyone’s eyes. He can feel Dean looking at him, even as Sam babbles on, but refuses to look back. He moves to the far side of the room, content to stay out of the way as Rowena guides Sam away so she can properly check Dean over.

Dean fidgets restlessly, eyes constantly shifting to Castiel, silently asking him to just wait. Begging him to not leave yet. After what just happened, though, how could Castiel stay? Rowena is just finishing, turning to inform Sam that his brother is okay, when Cas decides to make his escape. He moves to the motel door, unnoticed by all except Dean, and slips silently outside into the night.

He doesn’t linger, instead he starts taking hurried steps away, across the parking lot, before he can change his mind and return to the room. They’re better off without him. _Dean_ is better off without him. He hears a ruckus behind him, but he doesn’t look back to see what. He doesn’t even slow his steps across the dusty asphalt. He only falters when he hears someone call out his name.

“Cas!” The angel feels his heart squeeze in his chest at Dean’s voice, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t. If he stops, he’ll stay, and he’s smart enough to know when his presence will just cause problems.

“Hey, Cas!” Dean yells again, closer now. Castiel feels a hand wrap tightly around his arm and jolt him to a halt. Dean’s panting face appears before him, sweat glistening on his brow. Clearly he’s still recovering from almost dying. Cas frowns.

“You should be resting, Dean.” He says, earning himself a glare.

“And just let you leave for who knows how long? Ain’t gonna happen, Cas. Were you even planning on ever coming back?” Castiel can’t help the guilty look on his face. He wasn’t planning on returning, but he hadn’t intended for Dean to know that.

“It’s for the best, Dean.” He says softly, tugging his arm slightly in a faux show of trying to break free. If he really wanted to pull away, he could. Dean tightens his grip.

“Better? Cas, you just saved my life, man. Why wouldn’t we want you around right now?” Castiel stares at Dean helplessly for a moment before looking away.

“It’s complicated, Dean.” He tries to explain away. “You are better off without me here.” Now he does effortlessly tug his arm out of Dean’s grasp. “It’s better if I just leave. You and Sam can go back to your normal lives.” Dean sputters at that.

“ _‘Normal lives’_? Cas are you even hearing yourself? You’re part of this family now, you selfish prick, whether you like it or not. I thought you knew that!” Castiel whips around to face the fuming hunter and glares at him.

“Selfish? Dean, have you forgotten how much I have sacrificed for you? How much I’ve given up so that you can remain free? I do everything you ask of me, but this is one choice I have to make for myself.” There’s a fury building in Dean’s eyes by the time Castiel finishes speaking.

“You want to know why you’re selfish, Cas?” He spits, balling his hands into fists at his sides. “Because while you’re making your choice here, you’re also making mine for me. You’re making assumptions about the people around you, and not caring if they get hurt in the process.” To the angel’s surprise, there are tears glistening in Dean’s eyes.

“We need you here, Cas. _I_ need you.” He pleads, voice choked with emotion. Castiel sets his jaw, looking away.

“Dean.” The single word falls from his lips unbidden, and so gently that it almost gets lost in the quiet stillness of the black night around them. A thousand words are swirling through his mind right now, but none of them tumble out of his mouth because none of them seem quite right.

“Cas, please, at least talk to me before you disappear. Help me understand why you’re leaving.” Dean pleads, taking a tentative step closer. When Cas doesn’t move away, Dean takes another.

“I can’t, Dean.” Cas replies tonelessly.

“Why not?” Dean demands gently. Cas meets his eyes before flicking his own away again.

“Because it’s too difficult. There’s too much to explain, and I don’t know how. There are too many feelings trapped inside me, and I don’t know what to do with them. I wasn’t made to feel, Dean, and now I’m feeling too much.” When Cas shifts his eyes back to Dean’s, there’s a hint of desperation in them.

“You’re scared.” Dean whispers in awe, making Cas flinch away. “Whatever this is, you’re terrified. Cas, please, whatever this is, just let me in. Let me help.” Dean reaches out to grip Castiel’s arm again, but he pulls away. Hurt flashes in Dean’s eyes.

“I can’t, Dean. Don’t you see that leaving is the only way?” Dean sets his jaw stubbornly.

“No. I refuse to believe that.” Castiel meets Dean’s eyes, silently pleading him to back down. Dean’s eyes harden for a moment before his whole body softens. “Cas.” Dean breathes, stepping closer yet again. His hands reach out and grip Castiel’s forearms. A shiver runs through Castiel’s body as Dean steps closer yet again.

Their eyes both flutter closed as Dean presses their foreheads together. Their breath mixes between them, air puffing against each other’s lips. Dean’s breath hitches minutely. The dull ache in Castiel’s heart pulses once before slowly fading. Dean nudges his nose upwards, and then seals their mouths together. Cas already feels himself getting lost in the embrace.

They stay like that for a moment, just kissing softly, before Dean slowly slides his hands up Castiel’s arms and settling them in Castiel’s hair. Cas winds his arms around Dean’s waist without even thinking about it, pulling the hunter even closer. Dean exhales shakily though his nose, grip in Castiel’s dark locks tightening.

Dean pulls away to breath, his eyes remaining fixed on Castiel’s. The usual green is almost gone, his pupils are so dilated. Castiel can see fear, and desire, and something else swimming in the hunter’s eyes, fighting for dominance. Before he can see which one wins, Dean is diving back in, connecting their lips hungrily. He whines softly at the back of his throat as Cas pulls them flush together.

Dean opens his lips, running his tongue slowly over Castiel’s closed mouth. Cas parts his own lips in surprise, and Dean slides his tongue into his mouth. Cas curls his own with Dean’s, digging his fingers into Dean’s hips and making him whimper. He tries to pull away, worried that he hurt Dean, but Dean holds his head in place, crushing their lips harder together.

When he finally pulls away again, he’s panting and shaking. He doesn’t go too far, though. Sliding his hands through Castiel’s mussed hair, he wraps his arms snugly around Castiel’s shoulders and buries his face in the crook of his neck. Cas shivers as he feels Dean’s steady, soft breaths puff against his skin.

“Stay.” Dean murmurs, letting his lips brush Castiel’s neck. “I want you to stay, Cas.” He punctuates the sentence by nuzzling further into Castiel’s warmth.

“Dean.” Is all Cas says, heart both melting and racing at the same time. He wants to stay. _God,_ he wants to stay. He wants to remain here in Dean’s arms forever. He wants to feel Dean’s warmth on his skin, and listen to his rhythmic breathing for the rest of his existence. He longs to tell Dean how much he has changed him for the better. How much he loves him. Every part of him. But he doesn’t.

“Please, Cas.” Dean adds desperately. “Please don’t leave me. Not you too.” Castiel’s heart stutters at the sound of Dean’s voice. His hunter should never sound so broken. Dean finally pulls away and looks up into Castiel’s eyes. At the hope burning in Dean’s eyes, Castiel feels his resolve slipping. He unwraps his arms from the man’s waist and instead cups his face. Dean sighs softly, leaning into Castiel’s left hand.

“Dean.” Castiel repeats, softer. His eyes slowly slide open, neither of them really sure when they had closed. “I will stay as long as you want me. I’ve always only wanted the best for you.” He doesn’t add that he always left because he never felt that he fit that role. He’s made too many mistakes, he’s hurt Dean too many times, to truly be what is best for him. And yet...

Dean opens his mouth to reply, a raw vulnerability crossing his features that Cas has never seen. Before anything can come out, however, he snaps his jaws closed. Instead, he smiles softly, but it reaches his eyes. Castiel almost feels in awe at how truly breathtaking Dean is.

“Let’s go back.” Dean finally says, almost reluctantly. “I’m sure Sam has almost gotten past Rowena to follow me out here.” He adds with a fond chuckle. Cas smiles back, knowing fully well that, that isn’t too much of an exaggeration. When it comes to each other, the Winchester brothers can be very dedicated.

Castiel obediently follows Dean back across the parking lot, smiling whenever Dean looks over to make sure that he’s still there. Dean always smiles back, eyes crinkling at the corners. That something else that Cas had seen earlier is shining in his eyes. As they draw nearer to the motel room, the door flings open and Rowena appears.

“Thank God. Took you long enough! You have any idea how difficult it is to control your brother once he sets his mind on something?” She complains, shooting a filthy look Sam’s way as he appears in the doorway too. Dean throws his head back and laughs.

“Oh, you have no idea.” He says, eyes shining good-naturedly. Sam scowls at him.

“Well, sorry.” Sam sasses, throwing his arms up. “You’ve been almost dead all night.” That sobers up the four of them quickly enough. The smile fades from Dean’s face as he glances quickly at Cas.

“Uh, yeah.” He says, rubbing the back of his neck as he intensely studies the ground. “Thanks for that, guys. You literally saved my life, so I owe you.”

Sam scoffs. “Dean, you’re my brother. You don’t owe us anything.” He says, looking at Cas and Rowena for verification. Cas nods solemnly. Rowena makes a noise of indignation.

“Speak for yourself! You have any idea how much this night adventure took out of me?” Guilt flashes through Dean as he continues studying the ground. He misses the stern, and unimpressed, look that Sam levels on Rowena. Eventually she sighs dramatically. “Okay, fine. You get a free pass this time. But next time you’re not getting my services for free.” She warns. Dean smiles weakly.

As easy silence descends open them before Rowena breaks it. “Anyway, Dean seems to be fine, so I’ll be taking my leave now.” To Dean’s surprise, Sam stoops to pull her into a brief hug.

“Thanks, Rowena.” He says sincerely as they break apart. She waves him off.

“Of course, Samuel.” She turns to Dean. “Well, until next time. To try to be more careful, though. I may not always be around to drag you out of the fire.” Dean chuckles bashfully. Rowena turns to Cas and gives him a significant look. To Dean’s surprise again, the angel blushes slightly.

“Goodbye, boys.” She says before striding gracefully off down the sidewalk. Sam steps aside and gestures for the two of them to enter the room. He yawns as they do, glancing longingly at his bed.

“Don’t know about you guys, but I’m beat. Gonna hit the sack.” Dean nods silently, acutely aware of how close Castiel is beside him. Sam disappears into the bathroom with a change of clothes, leaving the other two relatively alone in the room. Dean turns to double check that the room door is securely shut and locked, turning his attention to Cas once he’s satisfied.

“You should rest too, Dean.” Castiel tells him, staring unblinkingly at him. Dean flushes slightly as he remembers how much that intensity used to make his skin crawl.

“Uh, yeah. Probably.” Dean replies numbly. Truthfully, the last thing he wants to do is sleep. Before he can add anything, though, Sam reappears in the bedroom. Dean frowns slightly, giving the angel who saved his life _again_ one last look before crossing the room to his bag. He digs out a change of clothes, making his way further into the room to enter the bathroom. He feels Castiel’s eyes on his back the whole way.

After changing into sweatpants and a t-shirt, Dean reenters the room, feeling relief rush through him when he spots Cas sitting stiffly at the small table by the window. Sam is already in bed, no doubt passed out under the covers. Dean hesitates in the bathroom doorway, torn between going to bed as Cas suggested, and going to Cas himself. He promised to stay, but it still feels like there’s so much left unsaid between them. Something lodges itself in Dean’s throat at the thought.

Slowly, he crosses the room to his rumpled bed. He drops his old clothes on top of his duffel. He’ll pack them properly in the morning. He looks back at Cas, finding him already looking over at him. His heart swells inside his chest as their eyes lock. Dean opens his mouth, inhaling and getting ready to say something, but the words die in his throat.

“I will be here when you awake in the morning, Dean.” Cas assures him quietly. The tight ball in Dean’s chest unravels slightly.

“Okay.” Dean breathes, for the moment satisfied to trust his best friend.

“Goodnight, Dean.” Cas adds with a soft smile. Dean returns it.

“Night, Cas.” Dean turns to his bed now, pulling back the blankets and sliding underneath. His body is buzzing, and he’s sure that he won’t be sleeping at all, but he knows that him lying down and at least pretending will make his angel happy.

He lies there for almost an hour, just listening to Sam’s soft snores in the bed bedside him, when his ears pick up movement in the room. He snaps his eyes open, carefully turning his head to look at Cas, not wanting to give away the fact that he’s actually awake. His heart plummets as he watches Cas move to the motel room door. He pauses, looking back at Dean, and for a moment, he thinks he’s been made, but then Cas silently opens the door and slips outside.

_‘The bastard lied to me.’_ Dean thinks as pain settles in his chest. As carefully as possible, so as not to wake Sam, Dean slips out of bed. He crouches down where he knew he left his bag and rummages around for his coat. Slipping it on, he takes silent steps across the room to the door. He pauses to toe his boots on, then slowly opens the door and follows Cas outside.

He turns around after quietly closing the door, expecting to be met with an empty parking lot, but finds Cas leaning against the side of the Impala. He has his head tilted back as he gazes up at the stars, a small smile gently curling his lips upwards. Dean doesn’t think that he’s ever seen something so beautiful in his life.

“You should be resting, Dean.” Castiel says, not even looking at him. He doesn’t even move, just continues staring up at the night sky.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Dean shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he walks closer. “I’ve been stationary all night, anyway. Kinda wanna stretch my legs, you know?” Cas finally shifts his gaze to Dean as he stops beside him.

“You were afraid that I was leaving.” Cas states. Dean shrugs again as he stares at the ground.

“Can you really blame me?” He retorts. Cas tilts his head slightly before looking back up at the stars.

“I suppose not, no.” He finally replies quietly. “But I made a promise to stay. I won’t break it.” Dean almost wants to say that, that never seemed to make a difference before. Cas has only ever stuck around for a short time before he leaves. Sure, he always cones back, but he always leaves again. Dean doesn’t say any of this.

“Thank you for saving my life, Cas.” Dean says softly into the still air around them. “I don’t think Sam and I ever really thank you enough. You do so much for us and we really do appreciate it. We appreciate you.” Dean looks beside him and studies the angel’s profile. His stomach squirms happily as Cas smiles gently up toward the sky.

“Thank you, Dean.” He replies. “But you do not need to thank me for saving your life. No matter what, I will always be there for you.” Once again, he shifts his gaze back down to Dean. They remain silent for a while, happily and contentedly studying each other’s faces.

“How did you do it?” Dean finally breaks the quiet surrounding them. When Cas simply raises his eyebrows, Dean clarifies. “How did you save me tonight? How did you wake me up?” Cas nods and looks forward.

“Verus amor.” He says. Dean frowns, not recognizing the words.

“The hell does that mean?” Dean asks. Cas turns an amused smile back his way.

“I forgot that the only Latin you truly know is an exorcism.” Dean forgets to be offended as he takes in the softness of Castiel’s eyes. Looking back ahead, Cas continues. “It means true love. Rowena likened it to one of your Disney movies. The princess being saved by her charming prince’s kiss.”

Dean chokes on air. “Rowena compared me to a princess?” He splutters. “And not just that, but one of the damsel in distress kind?” He demands, cheeks already flaring red. Cas looks back at him, holding back his amusement.

“Yes.” Is all he says. Dean scowls and leans back against the side of his car, pouting. He stares across the parking lot for a couple minutes before what Cas said truly registers in his brain.

“Wait, true love?” He asks softly. Cas nods.

“Yes.” He replies. “I didn’t think it would work at first. For love to be considered true, it has to be felt on both sides. I was worried that I had finally failed you for the last time. In fact, I was sure I had, as my first kiss had no effect. I was sure that you were dead, and we had no time to save you.” Dean looks back at him.

“The first time?” Dean asks. Cas nods.

“I tried again. I was so sure that I had truly lost you that I had to try again.” Dean searches his face.

“What made the second time different? Why did it work and not the first?” Dean looks earnestly at Cas as the angel glances at him from the corner of his eyes. Cas shifts slightly, uncomfortably.

Finally, he whispers, “I told you that I loved you.” Dean’s breath catches in his throat as Castiel’s confession. He stares open-mouthed at the side of the angel’s face, trying to comprehend how something bigger than life could ever fall in love with him.

“Cas, I—“ Dean flounders as he tries to think of something to say. Cas finally meets his eyes.

“Do not feel like you need to return the sentiment, Dean. I did not mean to make you uncomfortable.” Cas shifts to move away, but Dean stops him with a hand closed around his wrist.

“But I do, Cas. I do feel the same way about you. I’m not uncomfortable at all. I’m... in shock that an angel of the lord could ever love a messed up hunter like me.” Dean whispers hoarsely. Castiel’s expression softens.

“Dean, despite how you see yourself, you’re soul is still the brightest that I have ever seen. You are not just a hunter, Dean. You are a hero.” Dean scoffs and looks away. “Dean, you have saved the world. You are pure, despite your flaws, and I love you.”

Tears unwillingly well up in Dean's eyes as he looks back. Cas gently cups his face again, and just like before, Dean closes his eyes and leans into the touch. Cas leans closer, letting their breaths mingle between them.

“You are more than your scars, Dean Winchester.” He murmurs into the space between them before pressing forward and sealing their lips together. Deans whole body relaxes at the contact and he melts into Cas, hands reaching up to grip the lapels of the angel’s trench coat. He can feel his tears slip past his defences, streaming down his cheeks, and smearing across Castiel’s. He can’t help it, though. He’s never felt this loved in his whole life.

They’re both smiling as they break apart. Dean flushes as Cas gently wipes his tears away with his thumbs. Cas shifts his arms around Dean’s shoulders and pulls him into a warm hug. Dean presses impossibly closer, savouring the safety that he feels in Castiel’s arms. Despite the vulnerability of the last few minutes, he feels untouchable.

For the first tine in his life, Dean feels worthy. He’s feels wanted and valued, and it scares the crap out of him. He is terrified of screwing up, and losing his angel for good. But somehow, here in Castiel’s warm embrace, he feels like no matter what happens, they’ll get through it. After all, true love doesn’t just happen every day. Against all odds, an angel who was never programmed to feel fell for the man who never really believed in faith. The impossible had happened, and Dean was going to fight tooth and nail for it.

“I love you, Cas.” Dean murmurs against Castiel’s shirt collar, and _damn_ it felt good.

**Author's Note:**

> I am officially now on tumblr! I suck at technology, so you’ll just have to go the old fashioned way of looking up: messandahalf10 😂


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